


Corridor

by 12thofNever



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: F/F, Female Friendship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Drinking, M/M, Male Slash, Morning Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 03:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7298425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/12thofNever/pseuds/12thofNever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vila procures a special bottle of wine for Avon. Cally and Jenna eavesdrop in the corridor outside Blake's door (during a loud visit from Avon) and wackiness ensues as they try to keep Vila as far away as possible. Plus: Auron Clone Pop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corridor

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of a "sequel" to my story "Talisman" (in which Avon is the POV narrating a visit to Blake's room and the unexpected consequences.) What's happening in the corridor during Blake and Avon's encounter, meant to be somewhat silly. Also, I wonder what the crew members' individual playlists might be like. For instance, is Avon starting to get into Kezarnian death metal? His wardrobe does begin to change drastically.

    Music, that's what I need, thought Cally. Preferably soothing, ethereal Auron pop songs. The rest of the crew may hate Auron Clone Pop but that's their loss.  
    She ambled down the corridor toward her room where soft lighting, incense and her computerized music collection awaited. (Jenna had convinced the ship's supercomputer Zen to arrange all the crews' favorites into separate playlists for quick, personal access on the _Liberator_. Orac had been set with the task of attaining illegal downloads.)  
    As she passed Avon's room, she reflected on how oddly chummy Vila and Avon had been lately, as if the two were in cahoots over something. The sardonic computer genius and the loquacious little thief were acting particularly suspicious. Cally, being empathic as well as telepathic, knew they had been up to something behind Blake's back. Nothing really nefarious, she sensed, but likely something over which Blake would have a moralistic fit.  
    She had just returned from Beta Gamma with them and they had been insufferable in their own individual ways. Bratty children on a field trip. Vila was like the the child who wanders off and gets returned to the parent in the company of an authority figure. Avon was the sullen, obstinate child who turns his head away when offered a spoonful of food that is good for him, then hurls it to the floor.  
    True, the vita-hash was an acquired taste and Cally had done a great amount of research on its nutritional merits (rich in amino acids and omega vitamins of which the crew was getting very little on board the _Liberator_.) When presented with a bowl of the admittedly unappetizing gray slime at the local Beta Gamma farmer's market, Avon had only stared at her with bone-chilling resentment. But she had to give him credit: like a trooper, he had gulped it down rapidly to avoid actually tasting it. It was only after they had teleported back to the _Liberator_ and all three of them had re-materialized in the usual wobbly fashion, that she noticed he had gone a distinct shade of green. They made it to the lavatory within seconds of the vita-hash making its speedy escape back up and out of Avon.  
    Perhaps it was just an Earth thing, she wondered: these Terrans must have delicate stomachs. Cally herself had not become ill from the portion she had eaten, yet she dutifully mopped the floor while Avon sprawled against the stall, moaning and fixing her with a look of pure hatred.  
    "We must have some ginger somewhere," she mused.  
    He glowered. "Yes, ginger. Ginger will fix everything. Especially my dignity."  
    Luckily, Vila's escapades didn't involve vomit (not this time, at any rate.) He hadn't partaken of the vita-hash. ("He made the intelligent decision of the day and this will baffle me for years to come," Avon had hissed at her when they both noticed Vila was missing.) The small man returned later, triumphant and a little out of breath.  
    "You owe me, Avon," he grinned but cast a nervous glance in the direction of some burly Beta Gamman security guards wandering around the alien farmers' market. Crouching down, hidden behind the table at which they sat, his hand reached up with a parcel for Avon. "I outdid myself this time. Should've picked up a little something for myself as well."  
    Cally did not like the sound of this. "WHAT did you do, Vila?"       
    Avon unwrapped the cloth and Cally saw him pull out a bottle made of a lovely frosted pink glass, which she assumed contained some sort of alcohol. Avon's eyes suddenly grew soft with relief and she even heard him heave a wondrous sigh. He actually thanked Vila (startling Cally and Vila both and they shared a quick glance at one another, mystified). He fondled the bottle as if it were a sacred relic. She asked him what it was.  
    "Nirvana," he drawled. "A way to cope with all of you this evening. And several more evenings to come."  
      No doubt he had poured himself some of this precious elixir once back on board the Liberator, and then only after his stomach settled. She knew he loved Terran wine but it was too precious and rare off-world, and exceedingly expensive on the planet itself. Having once been an affluent alpha-grade, she knew Avon was a bit of an epicure. Vila had apparently done him a great service by finding a suitable substitute for his beloved vintages. Cally studied the rather attractive label on the quartz-pink bottle: it was decorated with pictures of odd little berries on vines (an exotic Beta Gamman fruit), intertwined with what Vila later told her were Earth roses.  
    Vila later winked at her conspiratorially when they were apart from Avon. "Wine and roses, Cally, in one bottle. Fermented alien fruit mixed with rosewater from Earth. Turns out Avon may be a little bit of a romantic in secret. Who would have thought? He'll be thanking me for weeks for getting him this pretty pink bottle. He might not even call me an imbecile for few more hours, but we'll see. I consider it a win-win situation."  
    "How much did this cost, Vila?" Cally asked, for the bottle was indeed beautiful and she was astounded at the softening effect it had on chilly Avon. The contents must have been precious indeed.  
    "Cost?" Vila blinked. "Hmmm." He shrugged. "Negligible. Reasonable."  
    "You stole it."  
    "It's what I do, Cally. And I'm very good at what I do. And this was an amazing feat of sleight-of-hand, if I might say so myself. I did a magic trick for the daughter of the wine-seller, and she gave me the bottle and I made it disappear."  
    "And they chased you."  
    "Of course. But I run too fast." He grinned, proud. "But hey! Avon's got his booze and we'll all be much happier for it. It will be what the _Liberator's_ needed from the very beginning: a happily drunk Avon, hopefully passed out in bliss."  
    Cally frowned. "I've never seen Avon intoxicated." She chewed her lip. "Or blissed for that matter."  
    "Nope, me neither. But I'm sure it will be quite a show." Then Vila looked suddenly worried. "Do you think he'll get even meaner...?"  
    "I don't see him allowing himself to drink enough to lose control. He'll have just enough to pacify himself so he can go about his work in a much more relaxed mood."  
    Vila scowled. "That's no way to drink at all. That's a waste of expensive alcohol!"  
    "That cost YOU absolutely nothing."  
    "Exactly. It's a waste of my talents."  
      
    And so Cally was on her way to her personal chamber, wanting to shake the remainder of the annoying day from her frazzled psyche. Zen dimmed the corridors for "evening mode" and even from here she could hear Blake's deep voice behind his closed door. Cally could not help wondering if he was talking to himself or in his sleep. Perhaps it required her tentative investigation. She approached as quietly as she could, pausing to listen.  
    There was now another voice joining him in argument. Blake was the loudest, despite his having the calmer of the two voices. It was rich and mellow, the same voice that drew such loyalty from his followers. Well, most of the time. Case at point: his current antagonist in the room with him.  
    The voice that opposed Blake's sonorous tones was alternately like velvet, then sandpaper: eloquent, raspy and snarling Avon.  
    What made Cally more puzzled was that they were arguing behind a closed door. A private matter? Something the rest of the crew could not (were not) permitted to hear?  
    The quarreling quieted down a bit as she continued to stand there, biting her lip in consternation, not really meaning to eavesdrop. She was only being concerned, she told herself later. She guiltily allowed herself this curiosity. There was a lot of silence then for a bit and she found this somehow troubling. Then came Blake's voice, very low, softer than she was used to, saying something about "rose petals". Were they talking about Avon's newly acquired wine? Were they arguing over how it had been illegally obtained? Was Blake finally on to Avon and Vila's subterfuge?  
    Abruptly, from behind the door came a startled cry. Cally became alarmed. Was one of them attacking the other? Her first instinct was to telepathically enter one of the minds of the room's occupants, asking if anyone was in need of help. She was glad that she stopped herself from her planned mental intrusion, for she would have completely destroyed what was to happen next.  
    The following sound she heard was a type of moan, and not of pain at all. It ended in a great sigh of pleasure. And this incredible utterance had come out of Avon.  
    She stood transfixed. More noises of appreciation were coming from the surly computer expert, along with low (amused?) murmurs from Blake. And suddenly all became clear.  
    She did indeed send a telepathic message then: however, it was to the person sitting in the pilot's seat of the ship's flight deck.  
    *Jenna! JENNA! Turn on your communicator THIS INSTANT!*  
    She had staggered back a little down the hallway and adjusted the wrist communicator's volume setting down as low as possible, ready for the pilot's reply.  
    " _Ow_ , Cally! Turn down your mental voice, will you?" snapped Jenna. "Vila just left and I've got the worst headache from his chatter. I really WAS ready to throttle him this time. He would NOT shut up about all the tourists he pick-pocketed today, then something about impressing a wine-seller's daughter--"  
    *Jenna, hush! Listen to me!* Cally sent back to her in a barely controlled lower tone. *I'm contacting you this way because I don't want anyone else to hear. Oh gods! I never thought it would ever happen!* She was shaking her hands in the air in exhilaration. She also realized she was  hopping in place like an idiot.  
    "Cally," sighed Jenna. "My head really hurts. I mean it. If this wasn't my watch on the deck right now, I'd hit you up for some Soma..."  
    Cally cut her off with an arrow-like thought-send. *JENNA! They're doing it!*  
    Jenna was annoyed. "What? Who? Who's doing what?"  
    *Blake and Avon! Oh gods! Hurry up and get up here to Blake's door! I think they're making love!*  
    Over the communicator came the sound of a loud crash and then the muffled cry of "SHIT!" as Cally guessed Jenna had just banged into the flight console in her zest to leave the deck. "Ow! _Goddammit!_ On my way."  
    Cally brought her fists to her grinning mouth, still hearing happy sounds from Blake's room even at this distance. *Hurry up!*  
    "I can only run so fast in these stupid impractical boots! Oh, why did I go with heels today--?"  
    Cally looked down the corridor and all at once recoiled in horror. The figure of Vila was ambling casually along in her direction, his head down. He was whistling, still oblivious to her presence.  
    *OH NO!* she sent to Jenna in desperation. *Damn it all to the Auron hells! Vila's coming and he'll ruin EVERYTHING!*  
    "Get rid of him!" Jenna barked over the wrist-com, but not loud enough for Vila to hear at his current distance from Cally. "Tell him I need to leave the flight deck because--because --I don't know--tell him I have cramps or something. Or tell him I ate some of the vita-mush you gave Avon."  
    *Vita-hash.*  
    "Whatever! Tell him I'm doubled over in pain and need heavy drugs NOW. He'll understand that."  
    Cally considered quickly. *I'll be more subtle, I think. Just hurry before these two come to their senses and realize what they're doing! Oh gods this is tremendous!*      
     Vila, at this moment, had just noticed Cally and lifted his forefinger as an idea apparently occurred to him. "Hey, y'know, we should go back down to the market. The daughter-- her name was Gurda, I think her name was Gurda. (I asked her once, I think). Yeah, it was Gurda. (Or Gurma? Maybe that's it.) Well, she was making eyes at me and I think she was really liking what she saw, if you know what I mean.  And I think she could overlook any previous acts of random larceny over a glass of her dad's--"  
    Cally intercepted him and grabbed him by the arm, whirling him gracefully in the other direction."Vila! Oh thank the gods! Jenna desperately needs you to take her place on the deck!"  
    Vila looked appalled. "Aw, I was just there! My shift's over!"  
    "Vila, it's... well, there's no easy way to say this, but she's having female difficulties. Only she and I are fully able to discuss the complexities. You understand, don't you?" Cally implored him with meaningful copper-brown eyes.  
    Vila made a contemplative face. "I think I do, actually. I am well-versed in lady secrets, you know. In particular, I'm surprisingly knowledgable about m--"  
    She cut him off frantically. "Don't tell her I told you. It's embarrassing." She continued to push the little man further away from the wonderfully joyful noises coming from Blake's room. "Thank you so much for your tact."  
    Vila grinned and touched the side of his nose. "No worries. My middle name is discretion. Vila Discretion Restal, that's me! Don't let me get in the way of secret woman stuff. I had a sister, you know, lovely girl, don't talk about her much, in fact don't talk about her at all, but I can tell you she made no secret about certain female ailments, one really nasty --"  
    "Oh, how sweet, Vila! Jenna! There you are!"  
    She grabbed the out-of-breath pilot's arm and curled her other arm around the blonde woman as if she were an invalid. "You poor thing, you're in such horrible pain." Cally nodded at her in quick encouragement and Jenna immediately bent over, groaned theatrically and grasped her stomach. "Let's get you some medicine for your very, very complex problem." Cally winked over her shoulder at Vila, who winked back conspiratorially.  
      
    When he was gone, Jenna lifted an eyebrow. "Wow. I'm impressed. What did you tell him?"  
    *Later! Come on!* The two women scurried down the corridor and crouched down in front of Blake's door. Cally lifted a finger to her lips. *Keep your voice way down. I'll communicate this way.*  
    "Telepathy must be a handy skill for these situations, huh?" Jenna whispered, grinning, and then stuck her ear to the door when Cally motioned at it with great enthusiasm.  
    *They're still at it.*  
    "How can you tell?"  
    *Lots of sighing from Avon.*  
    Jenna was skeptical. "That's nothing unusual."  
    *Not THIS kind of sighing. Listen!*  
    They did. Both women's eyes grew round with wonder. They turned and beamed at each other, delighted. "Oooooh," Jenna breathed. "Thank you for this, Cally. I mean it."  
    There were finally some low words from Avon, unintelligible, and then Blake responded, sounding puzzled. "What did he say?" Jenna asked and Cally shrugged and put her finger to her lips again. Then there was a resounding moan from what had to be Avon again, followed by a deep, throaty reply from Blake.  
    "Oh dear god," Jenna hissed. "Seriously, Cally, I owe you for this, woman."  
    Cally clamped her hand down on Jenna's shoulder in a gesture of comradery. Jenna in turn reached up and covered Cally's fingers with her own. The both smiled glowingly at one another, biting their lips to contain their zeal.  
    There was still yet more cooing and more prolonged cries from both parties, and then a sudden raspy exclamation from Avon that neither woman could make out. Whatever it had been, Blake responded to it with laughter.  
    *Blake actually sounds happy! Oh, that's so good to hear!* Cally sighed.  
    Jenna looked confused. "Why does Blake keep talking about radishes?"  
    Cally waved a hand, correcting her. *I think the word he's using is 'ravish'.*  
    "Oooohhhhhh..."  
    Cally was puzzled now. *What's a radish?*  
    "A root vegetable from Earth. I actually hate them. Ssh! What the hell is that--?"  
    There was a very peculiar noise then, sharp and staccato. It came out like a repeated bark, sounding hoarse and almost painful. And it kept getting louder. The two women looked at each other in alarm.  
    *What a horrible sound.*  
     "Oh my god," whispered Jenna. "Is that what I think it is?"    
    *Yes, it is. It's Avon laughing.*  
     It continued, even becoming a bit deranged. Jenna frowned. "That is the scariest sound I've ever heard. I don't ever want that to be the last thing I hear before I die."  
    *Then try to talk more quietly or it WILL be!* came Cally's mental hiss.  
    There were more deep sighs. "That's Blake, " Jenna murmured knowingly. "He does sound happy, doesn't he? Imagine that. Avon's doing this, of all people."  
    Cally considered this. *Yes. They do make such nice noises together. Except when Avon's laughing, that is...*  
    "They do indeed. I'm at a loss," Jenna admitted with a sigh of her own.  
    Then she tapped the other woman gently on the shoulder. When Cally turned to her, she studied the Auron woman's face thoughtfully. "Is this... having the same effect on you...?"  
    Cally smiled, meeting the pilot's softened and hungry green eyes. She lifted her slender fingers to join them with Jenna's. *Would you like to do something about it?*  
    A wicked grin flashed across Jenna's face. "I thought you'd never ask." Hand-in-hand, the Auron and the Terran stole stealthily down the corridor to Cally's room.  The airy sounds of Auron Clone Pop soon filled the corridor.  
  
    "Oh god, how I despise Auron Clone Pop," muttered Avon.  
    For all of his alpha posturing in front of the others, Avon was very feline in Blake's arms. His eyes closed, his arm possessively entwined about Blake, he was nuzzling the larger man's chest and nearly purring. Blake contemplated Avon as he stroked the other man's velvet hair. Both tried to ignore the sudden music wafting from Cally's room.  
    "Tell me about Anna," he murmured. This made Avon take pause.  
    "I'd rather not, " he sighed. "But even she'd never seen my tears. That's something you achieved here tonight and that must make you feel quite accomplished. Congratulations." Blake saw a slight sneer tug at Avon's lips to accompany this sarcasm.  
    "Avon," he tutted gently, "I'm not Machiavellian. That wasn't my intention."  
    "No?" Avon lifted his head from Blake's chest and fixed him with accusing sepia eyes. "You didn't plan on squeezing every human emotion out of me for your own sadistic pleasure?"  
    Blake winced. "I can't tell if you're joking or not."  
    Avon sighed again and rolled onto his back. Blake leaned on his elbow, reaching to make careful caresses in the soft floss on the slighter man's chest.  
    Begrudging, Avon mumbled: "Sorry."  
    Blake, in turn, lifted thick, impressed eyebrows. "Nothing to be sorry for. You're just being you."  
    Avon's exquisite mouth curled a little, revealing dangerous teeth. "If I had known what was to happen I would have brought my newest wine acquisition with me tonight. It's quite soothing. It has the fragrance of roses. It would have calmed us both down considerably."  
    "Calm us? Where would be the fun in that?" scoffed Blake. He saw he had made Avon smile and he put a finger to the other man's delicate lips, tracing them. Avon nipped playfully at him, imprisoning Blake's finger between his sharp teeth. Blake flinched only a tiny bit in response to the subtle pain.  
    "It's my belief you're hiding a poetic nature underneath this emotionless genius façade."  
    Avon grinned slowly, his eyes hooded. "Genius? So you're finally admitting the obvious."  
    "Well, you're smarter than me technologically," Blake shrugged. "And yes, please do bring the wine for our next time."  
    "What makes you think there will be a next time?" Avon drawled.  
    Blake smoothed Avon's hair back from his forehead, pressing his lips to it and crafting an artful kiss. "You're reluctant to admit you've enjoyed yourself."  
    "It pains me, yes, but I have."  
    "Well, when you bring the wine next time, let me pour it all over your naked body so I can drink it off of you. How about that?"  
    Avon lowered sly, maple lashes. "Well now," he purred, "there's a plan."  
  
    Vila sat despondently on the flight deck couch, having poured yet another glass of emerald Soma because there was no one else there to tell him not to. Except the computers, that is. "Orac," he slurred,"you don't think I drink too much, do you?"  
    The little box of sparkling wires and tubes whirred testily at him: +Are you asking for reasons of physical health or mental stability and alertness? I fail to see how I can possibly ascertain either without an extensive physical and mental analysis of your system. And it would be a waste of my considerable data-gathering skills to tell you something you can answer quite simply yourself.+  
    "So yeah, you think I drink too much," Vila said. "It's because I'm bored and not intelecu...intelle-gentually--" He waved a hand in the air to help the word come out of his mouth. "--Intellectually stimulated."  
    +Stimulated? As in gaining a pleasurable response from data-processing?+  
    "Yeah. Yeah, kind of. My pleasurable response comes from opening up things what don't wanna open. Like access panels. And locks. And annoying people."  
    +I fail to ascertain how access panels and locks are like humanoids.+  
    "Y'see, everybody's got secrets. Sometimes the secrets are obvious and everyone knows all about them. Others are so locked up deep it takes a special kind of lockpicker," he stabbed at his own chest with an emphatic finger, "to jar the lock a bit, y'see. Sometimes he's got to bust it open. Even damage it to get at what's inside. Make a real mess."  
    +I do not understand this conversation. Please be more clear in what you are inquiring of me. Do you wish to learn how to open a difficult program?+  
    Vila snorted. "Nah! I did that already. I did it the sneaky way."  
    +This conversation is not making sense. I am choosing to terminate it because it has no logical relevance to my expertise.+  
    "Fine, then. Here I am talking to a stupid box of flashing lights and picking up everyone else's slack again," snapped Vila and he waved his arm dramatically at the huge hexagon that was the ship's supercomputer. "Zen! Where IS everyone? Where is Blake right now?"  
    Amber and blue lights danced across Zen's giant screen as its voice boomed:  +INFORMATION. BLAKE IS LOCATED IN HIS CHAMBER.+  
    "Okay. And where is Avon right now?"  
    +AVON IS PRESENTLY LOCATED IN BLAKE'S CHAMBER.+  
    Vila lifted his drink in salute. "As I said, I went about it the sneaky way. I'm surprised it's gone on this long."  
    +FAILURE TO COMPREHEND INQUIRY. PLEASE BE MORE SPECIFIC.+  
    "Nah, that's all I really care to know, to be honest. Those two needed the right push and the right wine. How are Cally and Jenna doing?"  
    +JENNA IS PRESENTLY IN CALLY'S CHAMBER.+  
    Vila smacked his forehead. "Aw, no, that was NOT in the plan. No, no, no. Stupid girl stuff. Girl stuff that they won't let me watch. Orac, talk to me. I'm lonely."  
    +I am currently engaged in a fascinating exchange of information with Zen at the moment and you are interrupting a great amount of data retrieval.+  
    "What? Wait, but--"  
    +Please desist from speaking.+  
    "Oh FINE! Everyone's paired up with everyone else and it's not bloody likely anyone's looking for a threesome. Leave poor Vila to his lonesome despite the fact that I engineered all this. Yes, ME! This is the most boring night in the history of the _Liberator_ EVER."  
    +INFORMATION. SENSOR READINGS REPORT A HIGH STATE OF INTOXICATION AND INABILITY TO PROPERLY NAVIGATE.+  
    "Oi, I thought you and Orac were too busy 'exchanging data', or whatever you computer kids are calling it these days, to even talk to me, let alone tell me I'm drunk out of my gourd. Which I am. All we need now is Travis to show up with a ship disguised as something really stupid, like a  space disco, to make this night really complete."  
    +FAILURE TO COMPREHEND--+  
    "Aw, leave it, Zen. Let' em all have their night." He rubbed clumsily at his chin, trying to keep his eyes open. "I just wonder if the Gamma Beta wine really WAS an aphrodeeeshee... deeshickle...aphro-di-siac like the girl's dad told me it was. We probably won't ever know, will we?"  
    Zen made a clunking noise as if preparing to respond again. Perhaps it was just his Soma-soaked imagination, but Vila could have sworn the colossal computer sighed.  
    Yes, perhaps he should finally pass out now. After all, it had been yet another successful turn at fooling the rest of the crew into believing he was a complete idiot.  
      
 


End file.
